


Next tomorrow

by tatch



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 30s/40s era homophobia, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - World War 2, Angst, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Jack is only two years older than Hanzo, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Puppy Love, Some serious angst later on, but for now, same age au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 15:09:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11293212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatch/pseuds/tatch
Summary: America is dull.Being the heir of the Shimada clan is nothing but endless responsibilities.But Jack.Jack is not dull.Jack is free like the wind.Jack is warm blue, quiet chuckles and resplendent sunlight.He’s everything Hanzo has ever needed.Everything Hanzo has ever wanted.Hanzo won’t let anyone hurt him.Ever.Not even himself.





	Next tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Don't know what's comin' tomorrow  
> Maybe it's trouble and sorrow  
> But we'll travel the road  
> Sharing our load side by side

 

America is dull.

 

The air stinks.

 

Everything is so noisy.

 

Hanzo just wishes they could be home already.

Why are they even here?

He knows why, something to do with consolidating the relationship between the Shimada Clan and some of the most influential gangs and families out here in the United States of America. But Hanzo has no interest in politics, or his family’s business. He is the heir, and his long hair is proof of that, but he is also only eight. He’d rather be home, learning the way of the bow and the sword, or spending time with mother and his baby brother. Genji had been born two weeks before their departure, why had father decided to leave so soon?

Hanzo doesn’t understand.

He needs to be alone, to not see his father's face every time he looks around.

He needs some time on his own.

 

He has bodyguards, ever watchful, but escaping them is ... easy.

He _is_ the Heir to the Dragon after all. He is faster than them, has been for a few years. The only ones who can still keep up with him are the guardians back home.

And he is not home. (and the stinkiness, the noise, the people keep on reminding him of that very fact)

All he wants is to be home, to run in the mountains, play by the sea and relish in the quietness of Hanamura. To walk in the cool sand, listen to the rustle of leaves and let the winds curl around him.

 

He runs and runs and runs and finds something that looks like docks.

The water gently splashing the pier is not saltwater.

This is not the sea.

But it’s ... close enough.

He stops. Sits. Watches the waves lick the stone eagerly.

He misses home.

They haven’t been gone all that long but … Hanzo has never really been out of Hanamura.

Away from his mother.

Away from the house he grew up in.

It’s hard.

He wants to go home.

He curls on himself, blinks to push the tears away.

He can’t cry. _'Men don’t cry'_ , his father would say. ‘ _You can’t be weak, Hanzo_ ’, his father would say, ‘ _it will get you killed_.’

It doesn’t matter anymore. Genji’s born and even if Hanzo dies, there would still be an heir for the clan.

 

“Hey, are you lost?”

 

Hanzo looks up sharply. There’s a kid crouched nearby.

When had he come so close?

Who is he?

As he starts scrambling away, the other kid leans back, the curiosity on his face morphing into concern and surprise.

 

“Sorry! Didn’t mean t’ frighten you!”

 

Hanzo shakes his head. He wants to say that he wasn’t frightened, after all, the dragons sleeping under his skin would never let anything happen to him, but he did jump and try to get away. So instead, he rubs at the corner of his eye.

 

“I did not hear you approach, that is all.”

 

His voice sounds tiny and scared, even to his own ears. He cringes. But the other kid doesn’t seem to mind. He nods, a smile coming on his face and Hanzo blinks. It’s feels like watching the sun rise. The way the kid's eyes light up from within and how his hair seems to shine brighter. It's something magical. The kid has blond hair, cut short and blue eyes. A bruise on his forearm, just around where his shirt starts, and a cut on his lower lip. The shirt looks old, worn and the pants well used, threadbare in places.

 

“You dun mind if I sit ther’ ?”

 

The accent is just thick enough that Hanzo has to think of the words to understand. He speaks english well enough to hold a conversation, his father having insisted that understanding and speaking multiple languages was a necessity, but the kid’s accent changes the way the words sound. Hanzo scouts to the side and shakes his head again. The kid sits right there, legs kicking above the water, just shy of touching it.

 

They don’t speak much, but the blonde kid hums many different tunes, his gaze on the horizon, lost far away to the waves. _‘_

 _This is nice’_ , Hanzo thinks. He could get used to that.

As time passes, workers come and go, busy, so busy. Hanzo starts seeing some sort of pattern in their movements, some sense in the heavy drawl that fills the air when they shout at each other. He’s busy observing the fisherman that hasn’t moved for some time, beyond rolling cigarettes and smoking them, over and over again, when the blonde kid rubs his arms and get up, offering Hanzo a hand to pull him back up. Hanzo takes it and is easily pulled up.

As they stand, Hanzo notices that he is a bit taller than the blonde kid.

The kid smiles again.

 

“Gotta go or m’ ma’ll get all worried. Need a hand gettin’ back t’ your place?”

 

Hanzo frowns, deciphering the sentence. Oh.

He looks around. He … has no idea where he is. That much is true. He’d been so lost in himself, so focused on getting _away_ that he had not been careful of where he was going. There’s shame coursing through him as he gives a small nod. But once more, the kid doesn’t seem to mind. He just takes Hanzo’s hand in his own and asks him the name of the place Hanzo’s staying at. Hanzo distantly wonders if he looks that much of a foreigner, as his lips give the name away.

The blonde nods and pulls him with.

It’s as if he knows the city like his pocket.

Maybe he does.

Hanzo has no idea.

 

They walk for a long long time, and if Hanzo wasn’t so lost, trying to get his bearings, he would probably realize just how much distance they’re covering, or how fresh and full of energy his companion seems to be despite the distance. But then, they’re there and Hanzo recognizes the hotel.

The blonde lets go of his hand and smiles, apparently happy that he got Hanzo back to his place safe and sound.

And Hanzo needs-

 

“My name is Hanzo. Thank you.” He blurts out, his head dipping forward.

A warm laugh answers his thanks and he looks up and is met with an offered hand and the mischievous glint of the other kid’s eyes.

 

“ ‘m Jack. ‘twas a pleasure t’ help.”

 

Hanzo shakes the hand, but before he can string an offer for Jack to stay, so that Hanzo can thank him properly, the blonde kid has trotted away and vanished into an alley.

 

_Jack, right?_

_It’s a nice name._

 

 

The next day, Hanzo escapes his guards much earlier, intent on going back to the pier. It’s because of how quiet the place is compared to the rest of the city, he tries to convince himself. But it’s hard to believe his own words when there’s warm blue eyes and golden hair hit by sunlight coming back over and over in his head.

Finding the docks is hard.

It takes time.

How long had he run exactly.

The place is quite far from his hotel.

But he does find it.

 

And Jack is there, sitting in the same spot, his gaze distant again.

 

Hanzo comes near and sits right where he had been sitting the day before. It takes a minute or five, but Jack blinks back to here and turns to look at Hanzo.

The way his eyes light up from within when he recognizes Hanzo is unexpected.

As is the grin that graces his lips.

But it doesn’t mean Hanzo doesn’t like it.

He might like it a bit too much, to be quite honest.

Jack’s brow sports a deep cut and his cheek is bruised too now. He’s wearing the sleeves of his shirt buttoned down to his wrists today.

Maybe he’s cold.

 

Hanzo smiles a bit in return and looks at the water.

He likes it here. It’s quiet.

 

Jack doesn’t speak much that day either and his humming is much more subdued, more stray notes and vaguely melodic hums than real tunes. Hanzo doesn’t mind.

The moment doesn’t last half as long as Hanzo wishes it could though.

Soon, far too soon, Jack gets up again, his hand offered to Hanzo once more. And Hanzo takes it.

Jack asks if he needs help getting back, but this time, Hanzo knows the way back. And there’s something that tells him he shouldn’t keep Jack away from his home, no matter how much he wants to spend more time with him.

Jack’s brow furrow a bit and he seems uncertain.

 

“I know the way now. Do not worry.” Hanzo reassures.

 

Jack nods and he’s fast gone again, slipping around the corner of one of the many alleys surrounding the docks.

Hanzo starts the long trek back to the hotel.

It really is a long walk, but he’s happy. He got to see Jack again.

There had been something a bit off about him.

It’s probably just a misplaced feeling though.

After all, they had only met the day before.

it's not like Hanzo could know.

 

That evening, Hanzo sits through the dinner without once feeling depressed. His mind is not quite there either. Oh, he listens because that’s what his father expects him to do. Adults are far less guarded around a child than around another adult. All he has to do is sit there, eat and look bored. And if his thoughts often wander to a certain pier and long legs kicking just above cold water, it’s his business and his only.

 

_Tomorrow._

 

_Maybe he’ll see Jack again tomorrow._

 

 

Jack is not at the pier the next day.

 

Hanzo waits, until the sun starts setting but the blonde kid never shows up.

Maybe he was busy today.

It’s possible.

It’s not like Hanzo knows what Jack does when he’s not sitting by the docks.

 

But Jack doesn’t show the day after or the day after that.

And Hanzo is worried.

And sad.

_Maybe he got fed up with me._

_Maybe he got sick._

_Maybe something happened._

The bruises and the cuts on Jack’s skin come back to Hanzo’s mind for some reason. They seem important  but he can’t see how they would have prevented Jack from showing up.

He wants to go looking for the blonde kid but he’s got next to nothing to find him. Blonde, smaller than him (not by much), blue eyes, showed at the docks two days in a row, three days ago. Hanzo doesn’t even have a surname.

At some point, he gives up.

Jack’s gone and he won’t be seeing him again.

The world dulls a bit at the thought.

 

The next day, they depart and return to Hanamura.

The journey is long.

 

Life in Hanamura is as he remembers.

 

Hanzo forgets.

 


End file.
